


Another One Bites the Dust

by TheNarcolepticOne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, M/M, Recovery, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: A hero is always on call. Alfred never really stuck around long enough to stay grounded and it was the reason why Arthur broke up with him in the first place. At least Arthur knew there was a certain accountability in permanence. Alfred was never there, so there held the explanation. Superhero!Alfred x Arthur.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Another One Bites the Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ixiepixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixiepixie/gifts).



> For [Ixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixiepixie) because I just can't seem to not want to write enough for her. And it's her birthday and I love her. Stop stressing out so much, boo.
> 
> Also, sorry for the lateness. I'm having some struggles in life and writing in general. 
> 
> This was supposed to be for the USUK Twice Per Year "Recovery is Possible" edition but I just got sick in the middle of writing it and never got around to finishing it up until now.

Alfred was never a slow guy. He liked to be on his toes, constantly on the move. Eyes always shifting around to find something to do, to keep his hands busy. He’s not stable; chronically on the move for hours and hours and allowing his only times of pause for sleep.

And, of course, his own other alias _Velocity_ was no stranger to the blur of life either. 

No, Velocity _lived_ for the acceleration. To get things fast and done was always Alfred’s own motto beyond the hero business. He was a master at that; piling things onto his plate with no concerns about what would happen if he slipped on the wet floor. 

And this was exactly the reason why Arthur James Kirkland, a “take your time” kind of man, broke up with him. 

It wasn’t easy, of course. Alfred himself was definitely not expecting that metaphoric uppercut to the chin, but he had taken it well. Or at least Arthur thought so when he found him holding a stacked pile of Windows laptops in his arms on the way to the chemistry department building. He only gave a frown, from what he remembered, and Arthur had to quite literally walk up next to him in order to tell him the news.

“No hard feelings, Art,” he had said, eyes not even looking. “That’s completely understandable. But, hey, let’s talk about it later, ‘kay? I gotta get this in the lab before it starts and I’m already late. I swear we can talk this out and do it all official.” 

And just in a blip of a second, he disappeared from Arthur’s life forever. Arthur never did get the chance to hear from him later anyway. Not in person, at least.

It had been over text, which was not at all relieving to see. Arthur just read the message before promptly blocking the number from any further attempts to try and salvage what little time they had together into something worth saying into words of affection. 

So, by the end of it all, Arthur’s own life jumped back into clarity. He had time now to read books at his own leisure. He could walk out days into the parks where he could think mindlessly about the world. Journalism was back on the plate for him as a paid side hobby for the university, and the time for it certainly earned him enough of a balance to buy that new jacket he had been eyeing for months now.

But God, on the other days, Arthur wished he could forget about Alfred.

He wanted to be fast; to move on as fast as Alfred could run. Arthur wanted everything to pass him quicker; to get _rid_ of those feelings as dismissively as Alfred had. 

But a “take your time” man couldn’t do such incredible feats. And on the nights when Arthur stared at the telly, making sure his old ex hadn’t ended up getting himself killed in the middle of saving citizens of a burning building, he only wondered how Alfred could even manage to grow out of it. 

And a solid two years later, there was a knock on his door that really pulled the answer of this question into the limelight. Standing on the front porch of his flat stood Jones himself, drenched and shivering from head to toe. He had eyes that held a look that always never failed to make Arthur’s heart break in sympathy. And it was a wall of bricks collapsing onto him as he saw those blue eyes again, shine gone and lost in the slipstream.

“...Hey, Art. Mind if I stay here for the night?” The voice croaked, embarrassed and exhausted. “... please?”

It’s the face that pulled Arthur by the chest strings, causing him to sigh as he shook his head. Alfred furrows his brows afterward, concerned before Arthur is able to finish the answer. 

“Come on.” Arthur exhaled after a moment. Alfred doesn’t delay, pushing past him hurriedly as he came inside. It’s a new way of looking at him now, tired and much slower as he stepped into the roofed apartment without the iconic flash of wind blowing when he usually entered years before. Arthur is thankful that for once, Alfred could come into a building without carrying the outside elements with him. 

As Arthur closed the door, the sound of a cushion losing its air was heard as he continued down the hallway. 

“Thank you,” the American murmured through the pillows, and Arthur stuck his hands into his pocket, leaning on the wall with a shoulder. He takes a minute to finally see the man in his full form in better lighting. 

He’s dressed in only what appeared to be the remainder of some makeshift PJ’s made from a black tank top and khaki shorts, which were drenched in rain water. His hair was matted down, darkening the mattress his face was already buried in. Droplets littered what skin showed, dripping rivers down toned muscles.

Arthur cleared his throat, turning his head away a little as Alfred lightly lifted his head to look at him.

“I’d like an explanation at your soonest convenience, you know.” Arthur grumbled. “If you’re not too tired to tell me.”

“Sorry,” Alfred said this with a tired breath, eventually hoisting himself to sit up straight as he he then re-leaned back exhaustedly onto the backrest. Arthur adjusts himself on the wall to fully face him now, eyebrows furrowed in the way he always did when he wanted to figure out the story. The subjective. 

“… I don’t have my powers anymore.” Alfred sighed after a long moment. Arthur stayed silent, allowing him to take the floor. After a nod to him to keep going, Alfred continued.

“I don’t know what happened,” he admitted quietly. “It just began… to stop on my way from here. I ran to your place because you were the only one I knew who had a place I could… or at least I wanted to try and ask.”

Alfred brought his hands together, leaning forward as he linked his fingers. 

“I had to take a bus on the way here when I got tired.” Alfred swallowed. “Guess that’s a first for me, commuting. Feels like it took me 30 years to get here.”

Arthur couldn’t help but try and smile at that. “Finally empathetic to it, are you?”

“Thought you’d never see the day, right?” Alfred’s tone lifted a little, look back at Arthur with a trying smile. It was a hard effort at trying to be positive. “But yeah. I just… you don’t mind me crashing here while I … figure out what to do now, right?”

“Figure out? What happened?”

“Well,” Alfred said sheepishly. “It’s a bit of a long story. Mind if I shower first?”

Arthur blinked out of his thoughts, clenching his teeth in order to hold his acute interest to force the info out of him. “Sure.”

The slowness of Alfred’s movements was clearly uncomfortable; it was painful to watch. But as Arthur went off to go and grab the spare towels, he couldn’t quite describe how he entirely felt about it. 

Alfred had clearly crashed and burned harder than he had ever done in his life. To say that Arthur felt satisfied was to say that he was vindictive. But the years being alone had weighed his negativity down significantly, and Alfred didn’t need to hear the successes that weren’t at all related to him. 

Arthur had enough common sense to shut up when he knew he needed to; it was a lesson that he had thought to finally embrace after reflecting on long nights in front of the computer when writing down the opinions of interviewees. Stories would be told, but at their own pace. It’s uninterrupted. 

Arthur eventually came back right before Alfred had made it to the washroom. And handing him the towel, Alfred gave another quiet smile as he stepped inside and locked the door, leaving him in the silence of the showers. 

**Author's Note:**

> _Posted December 9, 2019_


End file.
